Look to your Priming
by Madam Pudifoot
Summary: Def: To have one's firearm ready for imminent use. Teague gives Jack a valuable lesson on women and responsibility - or rather, how to avoid it.


Authors: Myself and soleilpirate, from LiveJournal  
Characters: Teague and teen Jack  
Disclaimer: The mouse owns all.

AN: This is a collaborated piece for the conversation following "Growing Up".

**Look to your Priming**

Teague scowled, glancing about the skeletal remains of a once grand barque – The Flotsam Yard, it was called, and for good reason. The hull was decaying and beginning to fester from the damp and mold. It had long since seen the last of its sea-faring days, and would soon be unfit to reside at Shipwreck City.

Its condition had grown so ramshackle that the only ones who dared set foot aboard where drunks and teenagers, and Teague had received more than his fair share of complaints from inebriates, chased away by the rowdy youths. The Keeper understood the children's need for solace (if the place hadn't been in such a state, he might even have laid claim to it himself ) and had sanctioned the ship as a claimed residence, until it was put out to sea and left to rot at the bottom of the Cove.

There wasn't a time of day – or night for that matter – when the dwelling was left empty.

There was also scarcely a moment where Jack didn't hare off so as not to be pulled into odd jobs – and if the boy wasn't lurking up top, or out wrestling with his salvaged dinghy, then there was only one place left to look.

It didn't take much of an effort to locate the shaggy mess of hair, tied sloppily back with a frayed bandana – it was generally all that he saw of the boy. Jack's height had always been a sore point, but he had a few years yet until it was cause for ridicule. He was surrounded by a group of boys, younger by several years. They were all laughing raucously, Jack looking very pleased with himself.

Teague made his way to the table, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jack looked up, face bright with laughter, but as soon as he caught sight of his father, the color instantly drained, his smile falling in a dramatic swoop. The other children turned, searching for their companion's source of dread, only to pull similar faces as they rose, scattering before the Keeper could reach them.

Teague paid them no mind, only intent on the sole body in the room that hadn't bolted at his arrival. Jack sat stiff, staring intently down at the worn tabletop, eyes flickering away briefly as Teague casually braced himself against the back of a chair.

"Boy. A word."

Jack looked up, face still grim. "Yes, Da?"

"Heard you've been dogging Mr. Johnson's girl."

Whatever the boy had been expecting, it clearly hadn't been this. His face took on a reddish hue as he bowed his head, only to bob back up to address him. "Just being friendly, sir. Mean no 'arm."

"That's what worries, me," Teague said, giving his son a hard look as he took a seat.

Jack's eyes went wide, confusion sweeping over his features. "Worries you...sir? On what account, may I ask?"

For all his guile, Jack could be terribly naïve – they'd have to do something about that, and soon; he was too old to cling to innocence.

Seeing no sense in skirting the matter, Teague scowled, hating to feel so uncomfortable. "I'm no fool boy. You looking to swive her?" He fought the urge to swallow, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. Jack knew full well he was prone to speak his mind on any subject.

Teague watched Jack's Adam apple bob up and down, eyes now the size of saucers as they darted around the room, finally coming to meet his. "N..not sure...sir! I...I don't..."

He could have cringed at the awkwardness of the conversation, but instead braved an ill-humored grin, amused by how easily the usually charismatic lad had fallen to pieces.

"Jack," he said, trying to soften his tone. "Nothing wrong with it. Be worried if you hadn't taken an interest; she's a fair piece, that Mary." He could help but laugh, thinking of what a vixen the girl would be, once grown. But if Jack fancied her, then he had no business in it – best let the boy learn from experience.

A smile played at the corner of Jack's mouth, though he still sat tensely, hands uncharacteristically still. "Aye. She's a lovely one, she is." A strange light played in his eye, a vacant smile fully formed now. "Like how she laughs." Teague chuckled, and Jack seemed to catch himself, sitting upright as he began biting at a hangnail, suddenly disinterested. The boy had it bad.

"Pretty lass like that, bet you've had all sorts of thoughts..." he said, nodding, recalling his own lascivious youth. He rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a pipe and lighting it, slouching comfortably as he took a pull. The two sat in silence for a moment; Teague let the fumes waft over them, as Jack gradually relaxed, lost in thought.

Finally he came to, as if they had never paused at all. "Aye sir. I guess I have at that. I'm guessing...she does too. Looks at me sometimes, like she does." Jack smiled again, eagerly.

"Haha! Like she's just waiting for you to throw her against the wall," he paused in afterthought, then said, "Might be a bit pure for that, but I wouldn't put it past a woman. Not nearly so naive as you'd think." He'd learned that first hand. An image flashed through his mind, and he felt peculiarly homesick – his bed and wife seemed oceans away. He shook the feeling off, realizing that he was currently under a withering look from eyes far too like his own. It was almost disconcerting.

"She might be sweet on me, but she's not like that. Sir," Jack bit out.

He blew out a puff of smoke, rolling his eyes at the teen's chivalry. "No, not with her father about, she's not. Women are like the sea, Jackie. Can never really tell what they're about. One minute they're lulling you into doldrums, making you wish you were anywhere else – on land, even. The next thing you know, you're fighting to stay afloat, wondering if the last thing you'll ever know is the cold of the driving rain, and the roar of waves crashing around you. It's exhilarating. Dangerous." He chuckled, seeing the way Jack was drinking the analogy in. It was nothing more than a story to him, but in time, he'd come to realize just how similar the two entities were.

"Just how much do you love the sea, boy?" he asked, catching Jack's eye.

The lad shifted slightly, fingers fluttering as he tried to grasp the right words. "Love the sea... love her enough to try 'n tame her, love her enough to know I never will. Love her... like you and Mum... like..." he hesitated. Teague wondered if it was for lack of a description, or courage; although he'd have preferred common sense to prevail above the former choices.

Resisting the urge to outright smile, he took another pull from his pipe before continuing. "Aye, you're a wise one, I'll give you that. Many a man live thinking they can rule the seas." _And women, at that._ He shook his head, not certain if Jack was ready for that lesson just yet. "But that's the sort of thinking that gets them killed. A well deserved fate, if you ask me."

Realizing that he was diverging from the topic at hand, Teague leaned forward, shaking out his pipe and replacing it within the folds of his coat. "Now, this girl of yours," he said seriously, any trace of good humor fading. "You love her the same as you do the sea?"

Jack's countenance changed just as quickly. He'd always been the versatile sort. "I don't know, Da. Maybe... in time," he said solemnly. A grin came, lightening fast, bright as he revealed a row of ivory. "Maybe another!"

Teague scowled, shaking his head slowly. "Didn't take time to love the sea, did it? Nay, boy, she's not for you. Another, perhaps?" he laughed. "Of course there will be one. If an old sea-dog like me can find one, then you'll have no trouble with it. That's why I wanted to talk to you." It felt as if worms had settled into his gut, and he swallowed, praying that Jack wouldn't make things difficult.

The doe-eyes were back, and although he would generally be annoyed by his son's inexperience, it helped to put him at ease, now.

"Talk about... what?" Jack asked, fingers performing a mid-air ballet, as he looked at him skeptically.

Somewhat annoyed at the blatant lack of trust, Teague snapped, "Sex, Jack. Thought you were quicker than that."

It was remarkable how fast the boy went from coffee colored to beet red. If his lips were any thinner, Teague might think he didn't have a mouth at all – never mind the boy never could keep quiet for long. Trust Jack to find new ways to entertain him, he thought, grinning wide at the sight.

"Can't imagine it's something you'd ever want to discuss with you old man, eh? 'fraid I'm somewhat obligated to it. Now spit that cotton out of your mouth, and listen."

Onyx eyes went dull once more, and Teague was tempted to give the boy a good whack to get his attention. "A 'Yes, sir. You've my rapt attention,' will suffice, boy."

"Aye sir," Jack grit out, staring moodily at his feet.

He wasn't the only one who wanted out of the conversation, but Teague felt responsible for ensuring that Jack knew how best to take care of matters. Most other kids would give their right hand for this sort of information. Not that he ever expected gratitude from his son – he rarely saw the expression elsewhere and would be surprised to receive it now.

Sighing, scrubbing his face briefly, he said, "I don't much care what you have or haven't done with her. A quick grope when Mister Thomas isn't minding you, few kisses behind the apothecary when you'd ought to be delivering supplies to Mrs. Brimms. None of that much concerns me." He took a quick breath, shooting a dark look to silence any protests. "All I care about is that you keep your prick in your breeches." Then in a murmur, added, "Lord knows we've all seen enough of it when we were breeching you."

Jack did squirm now, sinking deep into his seat, as though he hoped to sink into the floor. "Da!" he cried, sounding half his age.

Teague raised a brow. Surely an adult conversation called for a more mature title? "That's 'Sir'."

The boy bit his lip hard, hands curled around the sides of his seat, gripping it fiercely.

"Aye Sir. Will that be all, sir?" he rejoined.

"Nay, that won't be all, boy. Mind you respect your elders – I didn't raise you so you could mouth off to me," Teague growled, one hand instinctively resting on the butt of his pistol.

Seeing his father's reaction, Jack straightened, looking Teague in the eye. "If I'm to keep my prick contained, sir, might you suggest a place where I might... relieve myself?" he said, demeanor somewhere between defiant and curious.

Teague's first instinct was to cuff the boy for his insolence, but his son's discomfort was understandable. The heat was fairly well radiating from his ruddy cheeks, making Teague feel somewhat more sympathetic than he usually would.

"Nelson's goat, if you're going to be snide with me," he muttered, glaring.

"You have a mind to lie with her, or not? Assuming you ain't lying through your teeth again, and haven't already."

"Haven't, Da. Sir. Swear it," the boy said quickly, visibly relieved to have gotten off so easily. Jack wet his lips, sitting tensely again, eyes darting towards the far end of the hull, to the stairs leading away to the docks. Ever the escapist, his Jackie. "I may've a mind to do so," he said evenly. He then smiled shyly, hands fidgeting again. "Can't be blamed for thinking 'bout it, can I?"

Teague nodded, smiling humorlessly. "Course you do. You've a mind to put ashore and help raise the whelps, too?"

A light dawned over the youthful face, as Jack turned to meet Teague's gaze.

"It's nothing pleasurable. Having to watch her swell up to the size of a Spanish Galleon, listen to her rage about being sore ' n ugly as a mule. Always falling to pieces when you least expect it. No man deserves that sort of castigation – it's oft as not what puts 'em in a mind to sail." If that wasn't threat enough, he added, "You won't have that choice. Not when your mum hears of it."

Jack's eyes drifted back towards the floor, stiffening under the cold look. "No sir...I don't want to be causing grief like that." His solemn tone was enough to make Teague wince – the boy knew exactly what his father thought of children.

In an instant, Jack was gazing up at him, gloom gone as a new light gleamed in his eyes. "Sam Wainwright and his wife have no children. Must be a way to...stop babies from starting, eh?"

The boy's keen mind put a new energy in Teague's bones, and he found himself leaping to his feet, laughing. "Ah, there's that quicksilver!" he praised, scouring his pockets once more. For a moment there was only the sound of waves rolling gently against the hull, and the clatter of Teague's various trinkets knocking against each other, vying for attention.

Sensing that Jack was staring at him in bewilderment, Teague carried on, battling his way through knifes, pistols, and knickknacks. "There is, in fact, a way. Mind, it's not surefire – you're living proof of that –" he paused in his search, pointing at Jack, more from habit than necessity. "But it's better than nothing."

His fingers brushed against something leathery and he grinned, pulling out the sheath and holding it triumphantly for Jack to see. It sat erect for a second, before falling limply against his palm. Teague frowned. "Won't do that when you put it on..." he muttered lamely, shrugging.

Jack sat, staring blankly at the phallus, but Teague knew his mind was in a whirlwind, trying to comprehend the absurdity of the situation. Still staring at the object, he stuttered, "Put it on...my...!" As if in tribute to the sheath, Jack's wrist fell still, flopping forward uselessly.

Biting back a laugh, Teague said, "Oh, it's not pretty, running about with garters on your bit – might uncomfortable, too. Tight like. 'most like wearing another layer of skin." He readjusted himself, feeling the ghost of the object constricting around him. "But that's the price you have to pay to keep from having Johnson blast a hole through you, innit it?" he said, glaring. If anyone could argue the point, it would be Jack.

His performance seemed to have stunned the boy into silence and Teague took the opportunity to hand the item off, glad to be rid of it. Jack gaped at the thing, although he didn't seem to be seeing it. As if in a trance he said, "And I'm to... while we..."

His mouth floundered, like a fish on land and he ducked his head, as if in shame.

Rolling his eyes once more, not quite understanding what there was to be ashamed of, Teague said, "No, you're to wear it during a full moon, whilst dancing and praying to Kali. Of course you wear it while you're making like rabbits."

He laughed, watching as Jack turned crimson, muttering unintelligibly. Turning serious, he added, "Now, if that doesn't work, you might be able to persuade her to take action. Pennyroyal will do the trick. Course, her father may well discover just why she's taken ill," he said, frowning and shrugging. They'd deal with that, when and if it happened – no point in worrying over what wasn't a problem.

Jack looked up quickly, swallowing deeply. "N-no. Don't want no more people knowing of this. I'll make it work," he said, stuffing the sheath into his pocket.

Smiling again, Teague leaned over, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. "Aye, good lad. Don't need your mother hounding me, on account of you being yourself."

Jack positively beamed, color rising to his cheeks for a different reason now.

"No sir. Thank you, sir."

Teague quirked a half-smile, wondering if he'd ought to spend more time with his son, if that's the reaction he got from such a simple gesture. Now wasn't the time for it – a gloom had set in around the corners of the hull, and Teague knew the sun was beginning to drop below the horizon, beyond the confines of the Cove. There was business Teague still had to see to, and the siren song of his warm bed was becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Besides, Jack would likely rather be off carousing with his friends, than sulking about with his father.

"Off with you then. Don't want to keep Mary wanting, do you?" he smiled, winking.

Jack made to speak, but changed his mind, smiling and shaking his head. "No sir... guess not." He then rose, padding across to the stairway, casting an uncertain glance back at his father.

Teague waved the boy off, and watched silently as he disappeared from view. He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty bulkhead, feeling forlorn. It seemed odd that Jack would be grown soon, taking to sea and making a life for himself. He was still a child in so many ways; it didn't seem possible that he could look after himself yet.

There were still a few years left, though they seemed far too few to be of any good. Maybe grandchildren wouldn't be so bad, if they kept Jack from leaving indefinitely.

Teague laughed at the idea – Jack would go wherever the wind blew him – he'd always been that way, the same as his mother. Best he held on to what time he did have, and see to it that the boy was well equipped to take the world on.


End file.
